TWISTED DESIRES FORBIDDEN ENCOUNTERS

Chapter 1 Serena’s POV I’m only twenty, but I’m already sick of being watched all the time. My dad is a big-shot politician in D.C., so our sprawling mansion outside Washington feels more like a high-security prison than a home. Armed guards at every gate, surveillance cameras blinking in every corner, drivers who report my every move back to him like loyal little spies. I hate it with every fiber of my being. I’m supposed to be living my life—going to college parties, flirting with boys my own age, making stupid mistakes—but instead I’m trapped in this gilded cage, constantly monitored. That night I was standing outside my dad’s study, nursing a glass of champagne, when I overheard his raised voice cutting through the heavy oak door. “The threats are serious now,” he snapped. “They might come after my family to get to me. I want Damon Black watching Serena twenty-four seven. No breaks at all. I mean it.” A deep, rough voice answered with calm authority, “Yes, sir. She won’t be out of my sight for a single second.” My stomach did a slow, treacherous flip. Dad had assigned me bodyguards before—bland, polite men who kept their distance—but never the head of his entire security team. Never someone like Damon Black. I had caught a glimpse of him earlier that evening in the long marble hallway. He was impossibly tall, at least six-four, with a powerfully built frame that filled out his black suit in a way that made my mouth go dry. Short dark hair with a hint of silver at the temples, a hard, angular face that looked like it had never softened into a smile. He had to be thirty-five, maybe closer to forty—fifteen to twenty years older than me. The kind of man who radiated quiet, dangerous control. The study door swung open. Dad emerged first, his face tight with stress, phone already pressed to his ear. Then Damon stepped out behind him. He was even taller up close. When those steel-gray eyes landed on me, he didn’t offer a polite nod or look away. He stared—slow, deliberate, unapologetic—like he was already cataloging every curve of my body, every flicker of emotion on my face, claiming it all for his protection… and maybe something darker. “Serena,” Dad said briskly, “this is Damon Black. He’ll be your main bodyguard from now on. Twenty-four seven. No exceptions.” I forced a sweet, practiced smile even as my pulse spiked. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Black. But I was doing just fine with the other guards. Really, this isn’t necessary.” Damon didn’t return the smile. His voice was low, gravelly, and dead serious. “Sorry, Miss Voss. ‘Fine’ isn’t good enough anymore. You’re only twenty, and you’re the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the country. Someone out there wants to kill you to send a message to your father. My job—my only job—is to keep you alive. That means I don’t take chances.” Dad clapped a hand on Damon’s broad shoulder. “She can be stubborn as hell. Don’t let her talk you into anything crazy. She’s my only daughter—my everything.” Damon’s gaze never left my face. “She won’t leave my sight, sir. Not even for a second. You have my word.” Dad nodded, already turning away to bark orders into his phone as he disappeared back into the study. Suddenly the hallway felt too quiet, too intimate. Just me and this towering wall of a man. I took a slow sip of champagne, acutely aware of how his eyes tracked the movement of my throat as I swallowed. The cool liquid did nothing to ease the sudden heat blooming under my skin. “So,” I said, lifting my chin and trying to sound braver than I felt, “are you really going to follow me into the shower too, Mr. Black? Or do I get any privacy at all?” His expression remained stony, but those gray eyes darkened, turning stormy and intense. “I’ll clear every room before you enter. Even the bathroom. You can pretend you have privacy. But if there’s even a hint of danger, I come in immediately. No hesitation. No waiting.” My cheeks burned. In a flash, my mind supplied the image: Damon kicking the shower door open, steam swirling around us, water cascading over my naked body as his large, rough hands seized my wet hips and yanked me hard against his solid chest. A hot, liquid rush flooded between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together instinctively, but the motion only heightened my awareness of the sudden slickness coating my folds. Just from his stare. Just from the low rumble of his voice. God, I was already getting wet. I stepped closer, tilting my head back because I barely reached his shoulder. “Most bodyguards at least try to be nice. They smile, make small talk, try to put me at ease.” “I’m not most bodyguards,” he replied, his voice dropping even lower, rougher, like velvet dragged over gravel. “I’m not here to be your friend, Miss Voss. I’m not here to entertain you or flirt with you. I’m here to keep you safe—even if that means you end up hating me for it.” I looked up into that hard, uncompromising face. He smelled incredible—leather, gun oil, clean male skin, and something darker, more primal. The kind of scent my father would never approve of. My n*****s tightened painfully against the thin fabric of my dress, and another warm pulse of arousal slipped from my core, soaking into my panties. My c**t gave a sharp, needy throb. Why was my body reacting so strongly? He hadn’t touched me. He’d barely spoken. Yet I could feel myself growing embarrassingly slick, my inner thighs becoming damp with my own wetness. “What if I don’t want to be kept safe?” I whispered, my voice breathier than I intended. “What if I’m tired of living in this cage? What if I just want to feel… alive for once?” Damon’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking. His eyes flicked down to my parted lips for the briefest second before snapping back up. “Then my job gets a hell of a lot harder,” he said roughly. “Because I don’t fail. Ever.” The way he said my name—Serena—without the formal “Miss,” raw and intimate, sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me. My p***y clenched involuntarily, and more slickness leaked out, making my thong cling wetly to my swollen lips. I was fighting it, trying to ignore the aching emptiness between my legs, but my body wasn’t listening. It wanted him. It wanted this older, dangerous man to break every rule and claim what he was staring at so possessively. I swallowed hard, my throat dry despite the champagne. “Welcome to the cage, Mr. Black.” He leaned down slowly, deliberately, until his warm breath ghosted over my ear. His voice was deep, quiet, the kind of tone you hear whispered in a dark bedroom at 3 a.m. “Call me Damon. And trust me… this cage is about to get a lot smaller.” He straightened, already scanning the hallway with professional detachment, but I could still feel the heat of his gaze lingering on my body like a physical touch. I turned and walked away on shaky legs, but his eyes burned into my back the entire way. Between my thighs I was soaked—my panties ruined, my c**t pulsing with every step. I’m only twenty. And now I’ve got a man who could ruin my life… and deep down, in the most secret part of me, I’m not sure I want him to stop.